


Let It All Begin

by Totoffle



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: First Time, Gary is nervous, M/M, Mark takes charge, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:49:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totoffle/pseuds/Totoffle
Summary: Terrible showers, excellent sex.
Relationships: Gary Barlow/Mark Owen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Let It All Begin

**Author's Note:**

> Hello ❤ Yet another bit of ridiculous Barlowen PWP from me, this time set in the nineties. Featuring Gary being unsure of himself, Mark being very sure of himself, and some shower facilities which, quite frankly, need sorting out.
> 
> (Title is obviously from _If You Want It_.)

"Come in."

Gary went into the office, closing the door behind him with a soft _click_ , and slid gratefully into the offered chair in front of the desk. Rehearsals were beginning to take their toll on his spine again.

"Alright, Nige? You wanted to see me?" Gary opted to get in quick, on the off chance it'd minimise the fallout. "I know the single isn't doing brilliantly, but it'll pick up sooner or later."

At the desk, Nigel dismissed his opening gambit with a flap of his hand. The other was rubbing his chin as he regarded Gary thoughtfully, causing the red flags to wave frantically in Gary's head. A thoughtful Nigel was a cause for concern, and usually for Gary. It meant there was a problem, and he was about to get the blame for it.

 _Your band, your fault._ That was one of Nigel's mantras, and one of the many quirks which made Gary want to punch him squarely in the mouth.

Sales dropping? Gary's fault. Audience member walking out of a gig halfway through, for whatever reason? Gary's fault. One of them photographed leaving their house at six o'clock in the morning, looking tired, pissed off and almost certainly hungover? Gary's fault, without a doubt.

"It's nothing to do with the single."

That was a surprise. In the previous two months, not a week had gone by without Nigel summoning Gary to his office for what he termed as _a brief chat_. In truth, Nigel did the majority of the chatting, using words like _progress_ and _disappointing_ and, on one particularly unpleasant occasion, _fucking awful_. None of Gary's attempts to defend himself and the other lads ever worked, and typically led to him being on the wrong end of a severe bollocking.

But this was nothing to do with the single, apparently. Gary racked his brains, trying to work out why he was there so he could cobble together a quick counterargument. It wouldn't work, but he wasn't going to let Nigel lambast him without trying to fight his own corner.

"I've been watching you recently, Gary."

Of all the things Nigel could've said, that was the most terrifying. As soon as the words left Nigel's mouth Gary's blood ran cold, and he tried to cover the dread by shifting in his seat. His voice, however, betrayed him.

"Oh?"

Nigel stared right at Gary without blinking, which was his standard technique for getting a confession. If he stared them down for long enough, they'd eventually admit to whatever it was they were being accused of, whether they were guilty or not. Gary wasn't sure what he'd done wrong, but he could tell Nigel wasn't going to be open any sort of reasoning.

All he could do was to continue to feign innocence until he discovered what his supposed crime was. It wouldn't be about dancing, because Nigel wouldn't drag him into the office to berate him about that, he would (and often did) do it in the middle of the rehearsal room, where everybody could hear. Gary didn't mind that, or at least he was used to it.

"Your mind hasn't been on the job lately," Nigel said, after a long time. "You've been distracted, more sloppy than usual. Now, I know dancing isn't your area and you don't have quite the same level of skill as the others, but it's been blindingly obvious, lately."

Another pause - longer, this time. Gary's brain had ceased working, and all he could do was sit there and wait for the telling off. He felt like a naughty schoolboy who'd been sent to the headmaster's office, and he hated it.

"I'm fairly sure I've worked out the reason, too."

This thawed Gary enough for him to gulp. For all the five of them said about Nigel when he wasn't listening, none of them could claim that he wasn't observant. Not much got past him unless they were creative with their rule-breaking.

"You have?"

Gary willed the following silence to go on indefinitely, delaying the inevitable cripplingly awkward conversation they were seconds away from having. Whatever Nigel had deduced was likely to be correct, and Gary had to pray that, for the first time, Nigel had got it very wrong.

Nigel then proceeded to ruin Gary's life with one question.

"It's Mark, isn't it?"

Blunt, accurate, no nonsense, typical bloody Nigel. It was the truth, too. Shit.

Gary, feeling his world crashing down around his shoulders and leaving him in a pile of depressing rubble, mumbled a subdued _yes_. He looked at his shoes, but could sense he was being watched. The longest silence yet was hanging in the air, and Gary knew Nigel was coming up with something truly unpleasant to say -

"I can't deny he's beautiful, Gary, even if he lacks confidence and has terrible fashion sense..."

\- or worse, to do.

"...but if this is going to be a long-term thing, I can always replace him. Plenty of pretty boys down Canal Street who'd kill for this chance, you know."

Gary snapped his head up at once, his heart beating painfully hard. It was worse than he'd hoped, and in spite of being mortified that Nigel had worked out his dirty little secret, he had to be brave and protect Mark as best he could.

"No!" he cried, getting to his feet and leaning over the desk, one step away from grabbing Nigel by his shoulders and shaking him. "No, please don't, Nige. I swear to you, it won't cause any more issues."

"You just see that it doesn't, lad."

* * *

Standing somewhere at the back was the only thing that got Gary through dance routine after endless dance routine, for two main reasons. First, it allowed him to fade into the shadows, taking some of the attention away from his less than stellar moves. Second, he had a nice view.

Nigel liked Mark to be at the front as much as physically possible: prime position for the fans to shriek at him. Behind Nigel's back (never behind Mark's), they sometimes joked it was so he'd be seen at all.

But Gary needed to focus and not get distracted, today. Nigel's warning - which was exactly what it'd been, and a final one, at that - from earlier was ringing in his ears, and he couldn't let it come to that, not if he had a say in it. And he did. If he worked his hardest, then nothing bad would happen.

So, Gary danced. He danced the hardest he'd ever danced, keeping up as best he could. His mind kept wandering, and his eyes went right along with it, but it wasn't terribly noticeable...

" _Barlow_!"

Nigel's sharp voice brought Gary back to earth with a bump. He hadn't spotted that Nigel was in the room, standing in the doorway, arms folded and fuming. He was eternally cross, but this was on another level, and Gary couldn't remember the last time he'd seen him this livid.

"Stop ogling Mark's arse and damn well concentrate on what you're doing!"

Gary couldn't remember the last time he'd blushed, but the heat was rising in his face as he went to stammer a futile objection. Mark, of all people, came to his rescue, swooping in like a knight in Lycra armour, ready to protect Gary from the inevitable rage headed his way.

"My fault, Nige," he called, punctuating it with a cheeky wink. "My bum is that distracting, see? Sometimes I'll be in front of the mirror, checking my trousers fit right, and the next thing I know it's an hour later and I'm still standing there, admiring it."

He tapped his arse as if to prove it, giving a wriggle of his hips that Gary had to physically avert his eyes from. When he couldn't stand it any longer and went back to Mark's shiny trousers, he was alarmed to see an additional set of fingers there, giving Mark a fondle.

"Too right it is," Howard was saying. "Pert, pliable - one of the greatest, this arse! Am I right or am I right, Jay?"

Jason sniggered, hurrying over to cop a feel as well. "I'd go with that, How. Outstanding buttocks on this one, the lucky boy. Rob? What d'you reckon?"

"I hate to admit it," Rob said, doing his patented _I'm totally serious_ face, "but Mark has the best arse in this room, by a country mile. Maybe _in_ the country, actually." He gave it a poke. "It's even better than mine and, as we know, mine's bloody _gorgeous_."

Everyone except Nigel laughed raucously, and Gary started to feel better. Nevertheless. He was grateful to the others for swooping in and saving him, but a part of him wished they'd stop groping Mark. And as for the way Mark was writhing and giggling and practically fucking _purring_ whilst they prodded him? That didn't help one bit.

"Remember what I said earlier, Gary. And no more pissing about, all of you," Nigel barked. "I'm not in the mood today, right?"

As they asked themselves when he was _ever_ in the mood, Nigel stalked out, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like ' _no wonder it's not fucking working'._

Nigel's threat rang loudly in Gary's ears, and he watched Mark, wondering who in the world could hope to replace him. It was then he decided it had to end there and then, that every lustful thought he'd had about Mark Owen would have to be forgotten, agonising as that would be. There was too much at stake, too much to lose.

For the sake of the band, Gary had to get it together.

* * *

There was no more messing around for the remainder of the afternoon, just several hours of exhausting, gruelling dance routines. Even Jason was fed up by the end, Howard grumbled bitterly about _sadistic choreographers_ , and Rob was so out of breath he was rendered speechless for the first time in his seventeen years of life. The three of them trudged off to the showers, holding onto one another and wailing dramatically with each step.

Gary knew he wouldn't make it without having a break, and he told the others he'd catch up with them as he plonked himself behind the piano wedged in the corner of the room. He figured he should do some work while he had a break, to prove to Nigel that he was a serious professional who could get on with on the job at hand, no matter how many attractive blokes he encountered.

Sitting at the keyboard raised Gary's spirits instantly. After a generous swig from his water bottle, he stretched out his fingers and pressed them lightly on the keys, sighing with relief as the first tune that popped into his head began to flow out of him. He was five bars into _A Million Love Songs_ when he got the unshakable feeling he was being watched.

Sure enough, when he glanced up he saw Mark leaning on the piano, grinning.

Uh oh.

"Is it true you look at my arse, Gary?"

The suddenness of the question, and the boldness with which Mark posed it, shocked Gary right to his core. His throat was drier than at the end of rehearsals, and he could do nothing but stare at Mark, blinking stupidly.

"Well?" Mark asked. "Do ya, Gaz?"

Gary found his voice from somewhere. "What? I..." he stuttered. "No, don't be..."

All through this, Mark held his gaze, smiling all the while. He'd clearly learned a trick or two from Nigel about extracting a confession, and it was unnerving coming from someone as sweet and kind as Mark. An ice age passed in silence, and a trickle of sweat ran down Gary's back, unrelated to the dancing. He realised it was pointless: he'd been defeated for the second time that day, and he'd have to own it.

He shrugged, as casually as possible.

"Maybe a bit."

Mark's smile widened then, Gary was sure of it. He took a step, compelling Gary to twist sideways and shift in his seat, managing to back himself into the corner with no chance of escape. The way Mark was staring at him was making Gary very nervous indeed.

"Excellent," Mark said, hushed. "'cause I was hoping it'd get your attention."

By now, one of Mark's knees was resting on Gary's lap and he was leaning in, and Gary forgot how to breathe as he inched closer and closer. Just as their lips were about to meet, Mark pulled away.

"I'm all sweaty," he said, scrunching his nose. "Must be all of the dancing we did this morning." He cocked his head to the side, regarding Gary seriously. "You're sweaty, too."

Before Gary could protest, Mark was grabbing his arm and pulling him to his unsteady feet, not giving him time to question what was going on as he was led towards the rehearsal room door.

And then, as he stepped over the threshold of the room, Mark stopped and looked up into Gary's face.

"We _both_ need a shower, don't we?"

Gary didn't have much choice but, if he had done, this definitely would've been it.

* * *

The on-site facilities were a far cry from luxury. In fact, they were rather grotty and depressing, and Gary was always convinced he was going to be murdered the minute he turned his back, or pick up several different fungal infections from the tiles, even with his shoes on. Neither were a good option.

They were empty now, which was all that mattered.

The other three had been there recently, though. Gary grimaced as he stepped over two piles of damp towels, which he deduced had been discarded by Howard and Rob as they dried off from their showers. Jason's were nowhere to be seen, and he guessed they were tidied away neatly in the laundry basket.

He couldn't fathom why he was thinking about such banal things as _towels_ when Mark was clutching his hand and dragging him in the direction of the changing area. Well, he wasn't really dragging him, considering Gary had no complaints at all about where this was heading.

It was just that his mind had a couple of issues it wanted to deal with before they could take this further. Gary's conscience had an annoying habit of getting in the way, nagging at him to make sure everything was right before it allowed him to do anything that resembled fun.

_No, you can't go out for a few pints with the lads until you've finished this chorus, you know that. There's no time for you to enjoy your youth, you've got an album to write, boy!_

In this case, his brain wanted to ensure Mark meant this, that he wasn't doing it for a joke, a bet, or out of pity. Mark wouldn't be so awful, but he couldn't let the niggling fear go. He wouldn't enjoy this, whatever this turned out to be, until he made sure it was for real.

And so it was grudgingly the he used his marginally superior strength to stop Mark in his tracks, freezing on the spot and pulling his arm lightly.

"Markie..."

Mark turned to see why they weren't moving, and Gary felt a shyness he'd never experienced in his whole life. This was no time for stage fright, and the words had to come out eventually, and in the right order, too.

"Is this really what you want to do with your time?"

Mark's eyes twinkled as he rolled them. "You sound like my Dad, Gaz. Which, I've gotta be honest, isn't that much of a turn-on. _Yes_ , I'm sure. I wouldn't be here with you if I wasn't, would I?"

This was all Gary needed to hear, and he gave Mark's fingers a squeeze to prove he understood and wouldn't do anything as daft as questioning his motives again. As they kicked off their shoes and peeled off their socks, Gary wanted to pinch himself, both for being stupid enough as to query it, and to check he was in fact awake. He'd been dreaming of this for so long, and now it was happening in real life and he wasn't sure how to handle it.

He'd hadn't envisioned it happening in _here_ , but the exact location was the least of his concerns. It turned out their state of dress wasn't important either, as they were both wearing most of their clothes as Mark took his hand again and headed towards the shower room.

It wasn't that big at the best of times, with barely sufficient room for them to get washed together (they'd avoided looking for a week, maybe two), but right now Gary thought it felt cramped. Probably because Mark was standing right in front of him, brushing his fingers over Gary's shoulders, then running them down his chest. Instinctively, Gary sucked his stomach in.

Before he knew what was going on, his t-shirt was being yanked over his head. Mark was right, he _was_ sweaty. Gary shivered as the cool air hit his damp skin, despite feeling boiling hot. He was very aware of how hard his nipples were, and that wasn't the only thing.

He couldn't pinpoint the exact second it had arrived, but he was confident he knew the cause.

"You're gorgeous, Gary," Mark said, going back to using his fingertips, pressing them so lightly to Gary's flesh it was almost unbearable. "So fucking gorgeous."

"You're crazy," Gary told him, making Mark raise an eyebrow. "I mean, thanks. You are, too." He bit his lip sheepishly. "Sorry, I've never been great at the flirting part."

"I guessed," Mark laughed, smiling fondly. "When someone gives you a compliment, you don't call them crazy. Especially," he added, prodding Gary's chest as if punctuating his point, "when what they've said is true."

Mark moved his hand upwards, and stroked Gary's cheek.

"You're so nervous," he said. "You do want to do this, don't you? We can stop if you want, I wouldn't want to force you into anything."

Gary hated himself in that moment, more than he ever had before.

"I do, of course I do! But..."

Who the hell was he to hinder Mark from getting what he wanted, seeing as what Mark apparently wanted was what he'd been yearning to have for months? What fool turned Mark Owen down when he was plainly up for it? What sort of total fucking idiot did that?

A valiant one, as it happened.

"Okay, this is the thing. Before we... before anything else happens, there's something I have to tell you. It's important, and we can't go any further until you know."

Mark looked concerned. "What is it?"

"It's Nigel."

" _Nigel_?" Mark's worry turned to mild disgust. "Not who I want to be thinking about right now, Gaz."

"Me neither, trust me. Still, I can't let you do this if you don't know what he said to me earlier, Markie." Gary could hardly bear to look Mark in the eye, but he had to. "He's threatened something terrible if I keep getting distracted. By you." Gary found himself having to force the words out. "He told me he was willing to replace you. Replace you in the band."

"He said that?"

Gary nodded. "Yeah. And you know as well as I do, he'd do it without a second thought if he made up his mind." He opened his eyes, feeling that he should do Mark the courtesy of looking at him whilst he ruined his plans. "I could never let it happen, Markie, so maybe this isn't such a great idea."

Mark took a small step back, and frowned slightly. "Hang on. Are you _scared_ of Nigel?"

"No. Well, yeah. Aren't you?"

"I'm fucking terrified of him, but you shouldn't be. You're _Gary Barlow_ , he can't chuck you out of the band!"

"That's not true. And even if it is, he can make my life a misery if he wants to, can't he? If he kept his word... I dunno what I'd do. I'd hate it so much. Wouldn't you?"

Mark paused, then shrugged.

"To be honest, I'd rather be out of the band and have you."

Once Mark's words sunk in, Gary was overcome by something he didn't understand, or have any control over. He strode forward and grasped Mark's shoulders, steering him into the nearest wall.

" _That's_ more like it," Mark murmured, as Gary crushed their lips together.

It wasn't anything like Gary had pictured in his countless fantasies - it was beyond all expectations. He was kissing Mark, and Mark was kissing him, because he wanted to. Gary still didn't believe it, no matter what the throbbing in his cock was telling him, because the horrible, screechy voice at the back of his mind was screaming at him: _it's a trick, this is, one big joke at your expense!_

Gary told it to shut the fuck up and, to his astonishment, it did.

He was disappointed when Mark pulled away, until he saw the expression on his face and felt the hardness in his trousers and, as if by magic, all of the frustration melted into a puddle at his feet.

"Shall we have that shower, then?" Mark whispered. His fingers were snaking down Gary's body, stopping half an inch above the bulge in his now uncomfortably tight trousers. "We both need it."

At these words, Mark closed his hand around Gary's cock, and Gary's knees tried their utmost to buckle. His touch was firm without being rough, light without being tickly. Gary had never experienced anything so amazing, and he didn't feel like he was in his own body. He bobbed his head weakly to the shower suggestion, and heard himself groan as Mark fondled his cock, but otherwise it was if he was hovering in the air, watching them from above.

Mark's touch became excruciatingly gentle, and that brought Gary out of his stupor. He pushed his hips just the tiniest bit, his cock bumping Mark's hand, trying to persuade Mark to give him more. He was being greedy, and he didn't give a shit. If Mark was going to tease him like that, then he was going to try and convince him to go the full way.

Still, the mere idea that Mark was touching him at all almost made him come before they'd set foot under the water, and Gary needed to concentrate or it'd be over far too soon.

"C'mon, let's go."

The floor was soaking wet already, making Gary pay closer attention than usual to where he was putting his feet. The last thing he wanted was for his first intimate encounter with Mark to start and end in casualty.

But it didn't. It happened there and then in that damp little room, with Mark's back pushed into the wall and Gary grinding up against him. He'd regained a nominal amount of control over his limbs, although it still felt as if someone else was dictating what was happening and when. And, in a strange way, that was precisely what was going on.

For once it wasn't Nigel running things, it was Mark.

"I'm glad you fancy me, Gaz," Mark said, tipping his head back to let Gary plant a row of kisses down his neck. "It makes me feel a lot better about wanting you as much as I do."

Gary stopped, glancing over to see Mark's wide eyes staring straight into him. Gary was sure he'd never seen anything as perfect, and if he had then he didn't want to know.

"How long," he asked, "have you actually...?"

"Wanted you to fuck me?"

"If you want to put it like that."

"Oh, I do," Mark beamed. "Since the early days, I guess. I've always fancied you, Gaz, and it all clicked into place during that first meeting with just the five of us. D'you remember? We sat in Howard's hotel room and talked about what we wanted to do, who we wanted to be, where we wanted the band to go. You were so confident, so sure of yourself, and you took control so easily. I could listen to you giving out orders all day, Gary."

Mark trailed off, pulling Gary closer. Gary took this as an invitation to kiss his throat again.

"I don't know when I realised I liked you," he said, licking a trail from Mark's collarbone to the spot underneath his ear. "But I'm pleased I did."

Mark's hands were roaming now, gliding down Gary's back, fingertips running across his spine, coming to a rest on his bum. He kept them there, digging in a tiny bit, as if he was getting ready to hold on for dear life.

"Me too," Mark said, gently and with an amused lilt. "I think I've known about your feelings longer than you have. You're crap at subtle, even when you're trying your best."

Nervously, Gary laughed with him. "It was supposed to be a secret, you weren't actually meant to find out."

"Then it's lucky I did, isn't it?"

After giving Gary's arse an affectionate pinch, Mark's hand glided over his hip bone and across his thigh, hooking into the waistband of his trousers and pushing them to the ground. Gary got the idea straight away, fumbling for the bottom of Mark's t-shirt, pulling it upwards and off. As he went to cast it to one side, Mark slipped his hand into Gary's pants, curling his fingers around his aching cock.

There was a small _pop_ in Gary's brain, and he dropped the t-shirt on the floor. In that moment, he would've agreed with anything Mark said, no questions asked.

"Oh God, it's the best bloody thing that's ever happened _ever_ ," Gary groaned, scrubbing up against Mark, desperate for more. Encouraged, Mark tightened his grasp, sliding his hand up and down, swirling his thumb in all the right places.

"Nice?" Mark asked. Gary nodded, unable to close his mouth (which he knew was gaping open like a fish). "Let's get under the water, yeah?"

"Fuck, yes."

Gary managed to find the wherewithal to take his trousers off and kick them out of the way, and this was when he spotted a problem. Fortunately it was easily solvable, and for his benefit, too.

"Hold up," he said. "If you get them trousers wet you'll never get out of 'em again."

"Better get 'em off me then, hadn't you?"

With a wink, Mark turned and raised his arms. He laid them on the tiles, then peered over his shoulder to give Gary one of his most dashing smiles. It was a mixture of affection, reassurance and a hint of mischief, the pose executed flawlessly as if he'd done it a thousand times before.

But Gary didn't want to think about that.

The trousers Mark had been poured into that morning were by some miracle even more snug than usual, made of shiny black Lycra that Gary could almost see his reflection in, with no button or zip to hold them up, making it almost too easy to access what was inside. They moulded to Mark's slender frame effortlessly, highlighting all the bits Gary found irresistible. He often found himself struggling into something similar at the start of the working day, although seldom with quite the same effect.

"You just gonna stand there and stare at me, Gaz?"

_Yeah, I might do that if you don't mind._

Gary tore himself away from Mark's arse and gazed instead at his lovely face - cheeks flushed, eyes shining with excitement.

"No, I'm not _just_ gonna stare. Not this time, anyway."

Taking careful steps on the slick floor, Gary put his arms around Mark and placed his hand above the top of _those_ trousers. He snorted a quiet laugh when he felt Mark, the slimmest person Gary knew, sucking his own tummy in as Gary's fingers skimmed over his flesh and headed down towards his crotch.

Mark was hard, and he only got harder as Gary began to tug the waistband over his hips. They slid down easily, and two seconds Mark's trousers were at his ankles. He shook his feet free and Gary was there straight away, pressing against him, closing his eyes as he felt his cock fit perfectly. There was a satisfied sigh from Mark and a moan of delight from Gary, as Mark rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. It felt wonderful - more than wonderful, it felt unreal - but they both knew it could be better.

"These," Gary growled, feeling authoritative as he pulled at the elastic of the underwear that was now _in the way_ , "have to come off."

"Take 'em off, then."

He didn't have to be told twice. Or once, really. In one swift movement, Gary stepped back and pulled them off, not allowing himself even the tiniest of glimpses until he'd thrown Mark's pants halfway across the room.

And, as he'd always thought (or _fantasised_ , technically), Mark's arse was flawless. He'd caught glimpses of it, namely in the showers and when it was covered in jelly, but it seemed a lot different now, and Gary was lost for words.

One came to mind.

"Fuck."

"You're getting better at dishing out compliments, Gaz," Mark grinned, giving a wiggle. "By the way, I should tell you: all the writhing about, the skintight trousers, the bending over when I didn't _need_ to? It's been for you, to get your attention. Did you know that?"

He hadn't, and Gary couldn't vocalise how Mark's admission made him feel. Amazed, for a start, that this unnaturally handsome, unreasonably sweet, unbelievably bloody _perfect_ bloke had been doing everything he could to attract Gary, even though he definitely didn't have to try.

Shaking his head, Gary smiled. "I didn't. But I tell you what, it fucking worked."

Mark didn't say a word, only smiled back. It wasn't a time for talking anyway - in all of his desperate, filthy fantasies, not once had Gary dreamed of them having such a long conversation (despite this being _Mark_ , and Mark being polite to a fault). No, they were supposed to be doing something else. Kissing, cuddling, fucking... All of them sounded like a fine plan, yet somehow none were worthy enough on their own. Gary wanted to make sure Mark got the nothing short of the best of what he could offer.

And Gary needed something too, and what he needed so badly was leaning forwards decorously and turning the dial...

Mark shivered as he stepped under the stream, and Gary didn't stop to ask if the water was alright before yanking off his own pants and getting under there with him, wrapping himself around Mark from behind. It was lukewarm at best, chilly at worst, but to Gary there wasn't a thing in the universe that was less important.

With a contented sigh, Mark slumped backwards, forcing Gary to support his weight. Gary did so gladly, and would've stood in the same position all day if Mark wanted to. He perched his chin on Mark's shoulder and glanced down, taking a sharp breath as he did.

"You... That much, huh?"

He felt the corners of Mark's lips twitch. "That much, Gaz."

"Wow." Gary pressed a tender kiss to Mark's cheek. "Sorry, I know I'm being a dope. I just... I can't believe you like me at all, let alone _that_ much."

"Start believing it, 'cause it's true."

Time slowed to a stop as Gary felt Mark take hold of his wrist, and move it from his waist. It felt as if it would never happen, and then it did. He let go, leaving Gary with his fingers brushing along Mark's cock. Once he realised what he was doing, a cascade of fireworks detonated in Gary's head simultaneously, more intense than when Mark had been touching him. It was as if he'd forgotten how to move, how to think, how to function entirely.

Thankfully, Mark rescued him for the millionth time that afternoon. He gave a couple of thrusts before Gary came to his senses and joined in properly, grasping Mark's cock firmly and sliding his hand down the shaft.

"Oh, that's _nice_ ," Mark muttered. "You're good..."

 _I've done a lot of it lately, pretending it's you_ , Gary said, in his head.

"Thanks," he said, out loud.

Gary stroked Mark's cock, slowly at first but building up speed as his confidence grew, paying attention to the little cues Mark was giving off. His breathing was deep, almost panting, and every now and then he let out a gasp or a whimper or an _oh fuck_ that spurred Gary on to give Mark the best he could. He didn't want to rush it, didn't want to miss a second of what he had in front of him.

But the water was getting colder by the second, and Gary couldn't tell whether Mark's trembling was down to the temperature or the situation. As much as he wanted to make this last forever, he decided to speed things up a tad - both for comfort reasons and because he was extremely curious about what was next.

"D'you want to...?" he asked, knowing the question didn't need finishing. Mark made an affirmative noise, which prompted Gary to tell him the truth. "I've never gone all the way with a bloke."

"Doesn't matter," Mark told him. Gary chose to believe him, like he should've done all along, because he was Mark and Mark couldn't lie. "Trust me, you're doing perfectly. And, before you check for the hundredth time: yes, I want you to fuck me. We don't need to talk it through, we don't need lube, we don't need anything except _you and me_. And if we're going to do it, then we're going to do it right _now_."

With half of his body beneath the trickling water, Mark pressed himself against the wall, resting the side of his face on the tiles. Acting on pure instinct and very little else, Gary went with him, one arm snaked around Mark's waist, his cock nestled between his buttocks. This was nearly enough on its own, but there was no way Gary would let it end there. Not when he'd waited for so long to find out what it was like to fuck Mark.

Hands shaking more than he would've liked, Gary positioned his cock at Mark's entrance, taking the briefest of moments to remind himself it was happening, before pushing himself forwards. Mark let out a gasp and then fell silent, leaning on Gary, making him more determined to fill him to the hilt.

"You okay?"

"I'm okay. Keep going, all the way."

Gary wouldn't have been able to disobey if he'd wanted to, and he drove his cock further inside Mark until he was pressed right up behind him, his nose nestled in Mark's hair.

As soon as it happened, Gary held his breath and let the feelings wash over him. He could've died there and been none the wiser, and nor would he have cared. It was almost too much, too soon, and he needed to slow himself down. Mark wasn't willing to be as patient, pointedly circling his hips, pausing every now and then for Gary to collect his thoughts before writhing a little more. The shockwaves this sent through Gary's body were unfathomable. He had to join in, he had to show Mark what he could give him in return.

For all his legs felt as if they'd turned to jelly at some point in the last hour, Gary made a few tentative thrusts, the final one causing Mark to make a sound that Gary wouldn't forget in a hurry. When he was old and grey and his faculties had long since upped and left him, he'd remember it in perfect clarity.

His nerves were dissipating somewhat. How could he be anxious when Mark was there, looking like _that_ , and demanding to be fucked?

"I really like you, Mark," he said, wishing he could get the words back as soon as they'd left his mouth. What was it about Mark that turned him into a jabbering wreck? Perhaps the nerves hadn't wholly disappeared. "And I really like _this_."

"I really like this too. And you. I really, _really_ like you."

He was teasing, which took the edge off of Gary's nerves.

"Did you mean it when you said you'd rather have me than be in the band?" Gary asked, nuzzling into Mark's neck. They'd slowed right down now, which was a relief. He wanted to enjoy it for as long as he could, in case it didn't happen again.

Mark nodded, his eyes shut. "Oh God, no question. I'd leave the band tomorrow, for you."

"Same here. I'd throw it all away if it meant I could have you."

Even as he was saying it, Gary was alarmed at how easily he had. It was true, and he'd half considered it more than once, but saying it out loud was another thing entirely. And yet there he was, naked in the shower with the bloke he wanted more than anybody else, and the words tumbled out of their own accord.

"You shouldn't say things like that."

"I mean it." Gary slid his hand back down Mark's stomach, and took hold of his cock. He didn't ask for permission, and didn't feel the need to, either. Mark certainly wasn't complaining. "You're... and I..."

"It's okay, you don't have to explain." Mark chuckled, sending a shiver straight down Gary's spine. In response, he ran his thumb across the tip of Mark's cock, barely touching it, wanting to see a reaction. He felt a shudder run through Mark, too, and hoped it was a good thing.

"Is that nice?"

Mark gave a low whine in response, cupping his hand around Gary's, moving it swiftly to encourage him. Gary was more than happy to let him take the lead again - he wasn't thinking straight enough to do it by himself, and was grateful for the guidance. Sucking air through his teeth, Mark laid his head on Gary's shoulder, meaning Gary could angle his face sideways and kiss him. It was rather painful and he was definitely going to end up with a crick in his neck, but as soon as their lips met he forgot about everything else.

They moved together easily, neither wanting to rush things. Gary didn't want it to end, he never wanted to forget the way it felt to be inside Mark, or the sounds Mark made with each thrust.

And for all his grievances about the strict exercise regimes and healthy eating plans and endless stretches they were made to do, he was suddenly glad they existed. The old Gary wouldn't have been able to support them both, half-sliding on the slippery shower tiles, whilst having sex, for more than minute. Thanks to the cruelty of the people who claimed to be keeping them in shape, he had the strength to hold his own weight, along with Mark's, fairly comfortably, all whilst pounding into Mark from behind.

Which was lucky, because Mark was beginning to melt.

"Oh Gaz," he murmured, nuzzling his nose on Gary's cheek. "I'm so glad we're finally doing this." He all but crushed Gary's hand with his own, until Gary caught on and tightened his grip. Mark moaned, loud and blissful. "Fuck, that's good."

Gary didn't reply with words, choosing instead to run his thumb over the head of Mark's cock again, thrusting his hips at the same time. Immediately, Mark reached up and interlaced his fingers at the back of Gary's neck, pulling him closer. When they hit the perfect angle, Mark kissed Gary, firmly and passionately, not letting go until his whole body was quivering.

"Gaz..." he panted. "I'm... Oh _fuck_...!"

Mark came. Gary held him as he did, eyes wide, flickering between his face and his cock, unsure of which was the best view. They were both spectacular, and it was the most difficult decision he'd ever had to make.

In the end, Gary settled on Mark's face, watching intently as his eyelids fluttered and his lips moved without making a sound. He stiffened for a moment as he crashed over the edge, making one loud gasp before muttering Gary's name and spilling into his hand.

When he was finished, Mark dropped his arms to his sides, and leaned further into Gary's chest, trembling.

"Was that good?" Gary whispered, planting a kiss on his sweaty forehead.

He made a tiny _hmm_ noise. "Amazing," he purred. "Have you really never done that to someone else?"

"No, I have," Gary said, powerless to stop his hips from moving again. "Not to anyone nearly as sexy as you, though." He let go of Mark's cock, moving his hand back up his waist so he could hold him close. "I've had lots of practice doing it to myself, too. Usually with you in mind."

Mark laughed, somewhat sleepily. Music to Gary's ears.

"I bet you have," he said, tipping his head further to grab another kiss. "You don't have to imagine it anymore, Gaz. I want you to feel as good as I do."

There was nothing Gary wanted more, and Mark's willingness to give it to him was blowing his mind.

Mark started circling his hips once more, alternating with moving his body up and down. Gary let out an involuntary whimper as Mark impaled himself on his cock, making the most beautiful noises as he sunk downwards. He'd never be able to describe how it felt, not in a million years.

"Fuck me, Gaz," Mark ordered, bending forward and grasping at the wall with his fingers. "Fuck me as hard and fast as you can, I want us both remember this forever."

Gary required no further motivation. He held on to Mark, slamming into him five, six, seven times, the room fading into oblivion as he followed orders and fucked Mark as hard as he could. Mark yelped with pleasure as Gary thrust into him roughly, no longer worrying about taking things slowly. It wasn't about _want_ anymore, it was purely about _need_.

He was just opening his mouth to tell Mark how fantastic it felt and how close he was, when he made the fatal error of looking down. Seeing his cock buried deep inside Mark sent all rational thought flying straight out the window. It was, no contest, the best sight he'd seen in his life, and when Mark leaned further towards the wall and tightened around him even more, he thought he was going to explode.

What the hell he'd done to deserve this he didn't know, but Gary vowed to dedicate the rest of his days to it.

"Bloody hell..." were the last words he gasped out before he came, harder than ever. He dug his fingers into Mark's hips, thrusting his own as wave after wave of pleasure struck him. Gary closed his eyes tightly, shuddering as his orgasm washed over him, trying to remember every single sensation so that he could fantasise about it again later.

The room span for quite a long time afterwards.

When Gary regained some semblance of consciousness, he noticed Mark was leaning on him, which was fast becoming something of a hardship. His legs were finally giving up and giving way, and he could feel them sinking.

"I can't hold us up much longer," Gary panted.

"So don't," Mark muttered back.

Taking the hint, Gary spun them around and dropped smoothly to the floor, keeping Mark close. Sitting between Gary's legs, head resting on his chest, Mark sighed happily. The freezing water was raining down on them, but neither of them were bothered for the moment.

"Was it what you'd imagined?"

Gary shook his head.

"I couldn't have imagined anything like that, not if my life depended on it."

Mark tilted his face, planting a sloppy kiss on Gary's jaw.

"Me neither," he said. He sounded contented, which filled Gary's heart to the brim. "You're very good, especially if it was your first time."

"Having an incredible partner helps."

Mark laughed softly. "I think it does."

They sat for another minute, until the water was too uncomfortable to bear. Gary succeeded in reaching up and turning it off, which left them quivering on the floor. As nice as it was to be cuddled up together, they couldn't stay there much longer.

"This isn't gonna do us any favours for tomorrow's rehearsal, is it? Nigel won't be pleased if we both turn up with hyperthermia." Gary said, not wanting to move but knowing they'd have to before too long. He hated being the one to ruin the afterglow, truly he did, but he was only thinking of Mark. "We should get up."

"Yeah. C'mon, I know where we can go."

* * *

In a corner of the rehearsal room, partially hidden behind a dusty old curtain and two stacks of plastic chairs, sat a huge, plush sofa. They fell into it, both utterly exhausted. Gary had never felt more thankful to sit down, and it wasn't long before he was spooning Mark, holding him close and inhaling his scent.

The thought of someone walking in and finding them did enter his mind, and normally Gary would've been panicking about being caught. This time he was much too tired to imagine what Nigel would say, or what they'd say in their defence. It would be the end of their careers with him, that was for certain, but in truth he couldn't think of a single thing that would bother him less. They could work all of that out later, when they weren't quite as loved up and blissful.

For now, everything was perfect.

He was vaguely aware of Mark speaking to him, and only when Mark rolled over in his arms and gave him a not-at-all-gentle poke in the ribs did Gary pay attention.

"Hmm?"

"I asked you what you were thinking about. You're miles away."

Gary smirked, kissing the top of Mark's head.

"I was wondering where we're gonna get you some tighter trousers."

"You sure that's a good idea?" Mark asked, raising his eyebrows. "You might be distracted on stage."

"Oh, don't worry," Gary muttered into Mark's ear. "You won't be wearing them on _stage_."

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this way, way back, but I really wanted to start 2021 off by posting something. 
> 
> Watch this space, there may be more. I'm desperate to keep this ship alive because it means the world to me, and I figured that finally finishing/editing some of my millions (literally) of words would be a good place to start. I'm still looking for a beta, or at least someone to chat to about very important Barlowen matters (IE crying when I find another plot hole I wrote in 2013), so if that sounds like a fun time, hit me up on Twitter or Tumblr or something. Until then, all mistakes are down to me.
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it!


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